


The Weight of Love

by Maegfen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 2, Smut, UST, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegfen/pseuds/Maegfen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus and Abby try to negotiate the ins and outs of a relationship in a post season 2 world, with varying degrees of success...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Okay folks, here’s Chapter 1 of the epic prompt inspired mess that I was given on tumblr (24 prompts in the space of 12 hours... manic!)
> 
> At the moment I've got 9 definite chapters for this planned out, with another 4 linking stories/ chapters roughly outlines (with plans for more...) So it is epic. And everything links together somehow. Some chapters will be long, some short, some angsty, some smutty; hopefully there'll be something in this weird interweaving thing to keep you all interesting ;)
> 
> My eternal gratitude to thebloodwhisperer for reading through this for me :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_If all you wanted was me, I’d give you nothing less,  
So come back when you can_

Barcelona - Come Back When You Can

 

* * *

 

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Marcus’ voice echoes off the walls of her quarters, the sharp tone piercing the silence that momentarily follows her last statement. He stares at her in disbelief, unsure of just why she’s made this ridiculous decision.  
  
_No_ , he thinks suddenly, it’s not the fact that she’s made the decision at all, it’s the fact that she’s has made it without  _him_.

He starts pacing as soon as he’s finished speaking, because if he stands still he’s not entirely sure how he’s going to react, despite his raised voice. He thinks that’s mostly an instinctive action rather than genuine anger at her previous words. Facing her, facing  _this_ , without having time to breathe and process won’t help matters at all. If there’s anything he’s come to understand since they all arrived on Earth, it’s the importance of taking the time to think through decisions before acting. A brief flash of ever-niggling remorse passes through Marcus before he turns all of his attention back to the woman standing opposite him.

Abby is defiantly silent, arms folded across her chest as she eyes him with a determined look, daring him to argue with the choice that she’s made.

“Sorry,” Marcus asks then, still reeling from her confession, “ _what_ did you just say?”

He hopes he’s misheard, hopes that maybe he’s misunderstood what she’s told him.

Abby sighs and repeats her words, her voice calm and unwavering, exactly like her decision...

“I agreed to go on the expedition with Lincoln and the remaining Grounders. We leave tomorrow with an aim to get to the outer limits of the camp by nightfall.”

“Have you lost your damn  _mind_?!”

His sudden outburst, in the past, would have maybe startled Abby. But now, after everything they’ve been through, it merely causes her to mutter under her breath about his overreaction. Marcus ignores her words, knows that he has a bigger fight on his hands than that of her comments on his attitude.

“You heard me Marcus; someone needs to head out to the remnants of the 12 tribes in the North. I’m the only medical doctor available, and, if you recall, I’m still Chancellor; I have final word in diplomatic matters relating to Camp Jaha. So I volunteered myself to accompany the group.”

Abby’s tone is so quiet yet authoritative that he’s not really sure she’s actually spoken at all. Her hands move to rest on her hips and she stands facing him, defiance and strength personified.

“And you thought this would be a good idea?” Marcus stresses as he finally stops pacing and just leans against the far wall, eyeing her carefully. He refrains from rolling his eyes, even when Abby gives him an almost nonchalant shrug. He folds his arms across his chest, mainly to keep his hands still.  
  
“There’s no other option Marcus. Jackson is laid up with the flu and Clarke is still conferring with the outer sectors of the 12 tribes to the West; it’s me or no one…”

He knows, in that instant, that’s he’s lost the argument, even before it’s completely begun.

“But you’ll be gone for weeks.” He tries not to sound like a petulant child, but he’s not entirely sure he’s pulled it off. He’s become so used to her presence since the incident in Mount Weather that the thought of going weeks or months without seeing her every day hits him like a punch in the gut.

“More than likely,” Abby confirms as she moves forward to stand right in front of him. “But I’ll come back,” a pause, a smile, a slight shake of her head. “You know I’ll come back…”

He can’t argue with that, not really, but then he’s never been able to hold her back from anything Abby’s set her mind to. He considers briefly whether her words are meant to reassure herself as well as him, a means for them both to maintain an air of sanity and security in the fallout of everything that has occurred since their feet hit the ground running.

Marcus sighs and sweeps a frustrated hand through his hair, his gaze never leaving hers as he processes, thinks and then, finally, answers.

“I know,” he says, watching her carefully, “but it doesn’t mean I have to  _like_  this idea.”

“I understand,” Abby replies quietly, and Marcus pauses as she reaches out and places a hand on his forearm. She sighs while he holds his breath and there is a short, comfortable silence before she speaks again. “I trust that I can leave you in charge of the camp while I’m away?”

Marcus nods, smiling a little down at her, aims for reassuring but probably only hits pensive.

“Of course; it’s what I’m here for right?”

Abby chuckles and hits him lightly on the arm. Marcus understands why she’s going away, but there's something, deep in the back of his mind, that tells him this is going to be a disaster…

Silence falls around them again and Marcus acknowledges that maybe,  _maybe_ , Abby completely understands the underlying feeling of panic and tension that’s running through him. The last time either of them went away on a diplomatic mission it led to war and death and pain. The scar on his arm itches as he remembers the feeling of the cold blade slicing through his skin, and Marcus wonders if Abby can still feel the needle being pressed inch by inch into her body…  _(her screams still haunt his nightmares, but he’ll never admit it; she shouldn’t have to share in his guilt, his sorrow…)_  
  
The tentative friendship and partnership between the two of them had been the only real upside to the whole experience, and it’s not something he’s willing to put at risk, not when they haven’t explored every possibility, every potential feeling that might exist between them.  
  
He sighs then, resigned to the fact that she’s going to leave, her determination to bring about a definitive peace treaty between the Grounders and the Ark survivors outweighing his determination to keep her within arms reach.  
  
“You’re not going to back down about this are you?” He finally states, the question rhetorical; he’s known the answer since the words left her mouth mere minutes ago.  
  
Abby shakes her head lightly, ponytail flicking from one side of her neck to the other as she does so.  
  
“Nope,” is all she says and Marcus can only nod in understanding.  
  
“Okay,” he finally says, moving away from the wall and gesturing towards the large map Abby had placed on her table shortly after he’d arrived for their impromptu meeting, “show me the route you’re all planning to take...”

And with that Marcus instinctively falls back to being her right hand man, her support, her adviser. He knows that nothing he says will change her mind, so Marcus decides to do the best he can to ensure that she’ll arrive at the northern camps as safely as possible. It’s the only thing he can really do...

 

* * *

  
It’s the following afternoon by the time the group is finally packed and nearly ready to go. Marcus stands by the entrance of medical, watching carefully as Abby places the last few pieces of equipment in her bag. They’re both quiet, contemplative as they take in each other’s presence. Neither of them willing to break the peace between them, to say something they’ll probably both regret.

“Got everything?” Marcus eventually asks as he attempts to lean causally against the wall. His hands twist slightly in front of him, fingers weaving in amongst themselves in a bid to keep himself occupied. He realizes that the actions betray his slight nerves at the thought of her departure, so he puts his hands behind them, standing as if he’s at ease in a soldier’s parade.

“I think so,” Abby replies, her back still to him as she stuffs some more bandages into her backpack.

“Good, good,” he mutters absently. His mind is still occupied with thoughts of where she’s going, of what’s she determined to do; he knows that she’s going to be safe, that Lincoln will keep an eye on her and the rest of the party but there is always that niggling doubt that something will go wrong. He’s never been lucky enough for something to go completely to plan…

Abby finally turns to face him, a soft smile on her face, no sense of worry on her features. Marcus wonders if he’s concerned enough for the two of them.

“I’ll stay in radio contact for as long as I can,” she says quietly, looking up at him and flashing another smile towards him. Marcus can’t help but smile back, and he feels the nerves start to settle in his stomach; he can maintain contact with her for a good 24 hours or so thanks to Raven and her new radio array.

“Okay,” he mutters again, still reluctant to look at her, eyes instead moving to focus on the scuffed toes of his boots, battered and worn from months of walking and running and fighting.

“Marcus…” he hears her whisper and he eventually pulls himself from his petulant sulk and just looks at her. Her hand reaches for his and suddenly he is being pulled towards her, Abby’s tiny frame hiding her strength and he struggles to hold back a surprised bark of laughter as he is unexpectedly pulled into a hug. It’s new, unfamiliar, but he soon settles into the touch, wrapping his arms around her, reveling in the warmth of her body against his.

This is the closest they’ve been since he held her hand all the way back from Mount Weather, since he helped her onto the medical bed, the one that lies right behind him now, since he sat by her side for hours as she recovered from the operation to close the wounds across her body. He holds her close, tries not to analyze the way her body just fits against his, her head tucked under his chin, her hands splayed across his back, her fingertips tapping lightly in a random pattern across his shirt.

“Come back safe,” he whispers into her hair then, lips ghosting over the crown of her head, “for God’s sake Abby,  _please_ , come back safe. Come back to  _me_ …”

Marcus can feel her breath hitch slightly, as he wonders if he sounds as desperate out loud as he had in his head. He finds he doesn’t care; he’d almost lost her in the depths of Mount Weather, and he’s not going to lose her now that they are on the verge of something akin to normalcy.

“I will, I promise,” she replies and then suddenly, her lips are on his cheek. The touch is chaste, fleeting, but its a sign of something more, of intent, and Marcus is bewildered that the move has come from Abby and not him.

“ _Abby_ …” he exhales, breath fluttering against her again and he feels her pull   
away from him.

“Marcus, please, don’t over analyze this, not now,” she says quietly, words reassuring his chaotic thoughts. He nods, because he doesn’t trust his words to express what he wants to say. Instead, he pauses and then nods again, once, smiles, tries not to break.

“Okay,” he whispers, voice low, husky, resigned. He takes a hesitant step back, moves only a few inches away but it’s enough room for both of them to take a single, shaky breath, eyes locked on each other in the dim light of the room, “okay.”

But he does analyze because he can’t help himself, but he doesn’t reveal himself. He chooses, however, to pulls her to him again and place a soft kiss on her forehead, lips lingering on the creases that have emerged on her brow in the previous weeks. He longs to kiss her worries away, to replace the frown lines with those of laughter. Marcus wonders if he’ll ever have the chance…

He steps forward again, and really, he can’t help himself. He needs to know that she’ll be safe, that she understands that he’s worried about her,  _for_  her. That he  _cares._

Marcus carefully leans towards her, keeps his eyes locked on Abby’s until the last possible second before closing them, right when his skin touches hers.

“May we meet again,” he says, eyes closed, forehead resting on hers. Their breath is now in sync, sighs matching each others as they both take in these last few minutes of peace before they’re separated again.

“May we meet again,” Abby replies softly, her voice nothing but a whisper. Marcus has never prayed so hard for something to come true.

There’s a sudden boisterous shout outside of the door, drawing the two of them back to the reality that they’re facing; Abby is leaving and Marcus is staying and God how he wishes he could go with them, that maybe she could stay here instead.

Sinclair pops his head in the door, but the two of them have separated by the time his eyes land on them both and so the chief engineer doesn’t sound at all suspicious when he asks if the two of them are done and if Abby’s ready to go.

“Yeah,” Abby replies, smiling up at Sinclair, “got everything I need, and I’ve briefed Councillor Kane on the latest duties he needs to attend to as Acting Chancellor.”

“Very good ma’am,” Sinclair answers, a soft smile on his face. He then nods once in recognition at Marcus and disappears back out into the main area of the camp.

There’s a moment of silence between them both again, but this time, neither of them dares speak. They walk silently out of medical, standing so close but not touching, the distance minimal but it feels like miles. Marcus longs to take Abby’s hand in his, to hold her to him and to hug her one last time before she goes. But he knows that neither of them are ready for that, understands that now the two of them must focus solely on the diplomatic mission that lies ahead.

They make their way to the rest of the group, both of them greeting other members of the camp and pausing to chat briefly with a couple of the younger grounders that are part of the expedition team.  

They finally stop at the side of the horse that Lincoln has prepared for Abby and Marcus allows himself to help her up onto the saddle, their fingers touching briefly as he hands her the reigns.

“Come back safe,” he repeats, the words now loaded with extra meaning, filled with hope and fear and everything in between.

“I will,” she replies, and Abby smiles although the gesture doesn’t quite meet her eyes. Marcus is sure the same look is mirrored on his own face.

Everything after that is a blur, fuzzy in his memory when Marcus sits in his office alone later that evening, radio sitting silent next to a long forgotten cup of coffee and a stack of paperwork he has no intention of going through.

All he really recalls is his desperate plea for her to return, Abby’s reassurances that she would and her lips upon his skin…

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think; kudos and comments make my day :)


End file.
